Chapter two #2
Pretty sure smoking on the tarmac isn’t allowed. The thought makes me smirk. I’d like to see someone try to stop him.
“Tickets are sold out to Pulse’s one and only Australian show,” the anchor is saying, “but scalpers are cashing in. Fans are lining up—”
Click.
I drop the remote onto the couch beside me.
The silence sinks its talons in, twisting through my mind.
One mention of him—that’s all it takes. Now I’m right back where I swore I wouldn’t go.
Reclining, I fix my eyes on the ceiling and wait for it to pass.
It doesn’t. The memories crash over me, fast and relentless, an avalanche I have no hope of outrunning.
I’ve spent years training myself to not see him. To not let his voice, his face, his fucking name crawl under my skin.
It should be impossible to ignore him when he’s everywhere.
He’s on TV, billboards, magazines. That perfect face staring back at me.
Nothing says “move on” quite like your most humiliating memory wrapped in six feet of shirtless arrogance and a Patek Philippe watch glinting on his wrist. He’s the sole reason I stay off social media.
His name trends every other week, just to remind me of that fucked-up moment.
I’ve forced myself to avoid him wherever I can, to block out his existence. He’s a reminder of everything I ran from—that shitty little town, and that version of me I’d rather bury.
But no matter how far I run or how hard I try to build something new, something mine, Carter always finds a way in.
The universe is hell-bent on dragging me toward the person I used to be, tugging at the thread, and unraveling the distance I’ve worked so hard to build between us.
“Shit,” I groan, pushing myself off the couch. I grab the band from my wrist and twist my hair into a tight ponytail, pulling until my scalp stings.
I’ve come a long way from little Vi—the gaunt kid everyone overlooked yet somehow still found time to pick on.
Crawling out of Riverstone was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was worth it.
I had to get away from the constant abuse and whispered gossip about the foster kid, the freak show.
Away from Jeanine’s soft-spoken guilt trips about how she’d “done her best.” But somehow, seeing him tonight in the flesh and now on TV, I’m right back there again.
Trapped in the life I fought like hell to leave behind.
I scrunch my eyes shut, and the breath leaves me in a puff.
My phone vibrates against the coffee table, and I reach for it, unlocking the screen.
Liam
Ghosting only makes me double down. Don’t be a bitch. Call me back.
My lips twitch into a small smile. Liam and I have this unspoken rule—we don’t talk about Pulse, and we definitely don’t talk about Carter. We never needed to say it out loud. Maybe he knew that if his job ever came between us, he’d lose me. I’m grateful he’s never tested that theory.
Liam was always an angry kid, carrying the weight of his demons on broad shoulders. He lived on misplaced rage, fists flying at anyone who so much as looked at him wrong.
But he turned it around. He’s married to a woman who couldn’t be more different from him, and somehow it works. Their first child is on the way, and he’s running the band, and as far as I know, doing a bang-up job of it. I’m proud of him, even if I’ve never told him.
I start to type a reply, but delete it halfway through. Might as well get this over with. I hit Call instead.
“About fucking time,” Liam answers on the second ring. “Where’ve you been?”
“Hey, shithead. Working. Where else?”
“Stop ignoring me. It’s annoying as fuck.”
“I literally just said I’ve been working.” I roll my eyes. “How’s Anne?”
His voice softens right away. “She’s good. Morning sickness is still kicking her ass, though.”
“Mmm. Heard that can suck.”
“Yeah, it’s not fun. What about you? What’s going on?”
“I got a new commission.” I can’t quite keep the pride out of my voice.
“Oh yeah? Who with?”
“PrimeTime+.”
There’s a pause. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.”
“Really, Vi?”
“Did you know?”
He snorts. “No, why the fuck would I know? I’ve been working on landing this doco deal for eighteen months, but I don’t pick their crew.”
“Dunno, thought maybe you put my name forward or something.”
“I didn’t, Vi.” Another pause. “And you said yes? You’re actually doing it?”
I breathe out through my nose. “Yeah. It’s literally my dream job.”
“But it’s ten months . . .” He trails off. “With Carter.”
I can tell it pains him to say it, to even acknowledge our unspoken rule.
“I know, Liam. It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’m not passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.”
He sighs, long and heavy. “Alright. Well, I’m here in Sydney, but I’m not doing the whole tour. Got enough stuff going on with Anne and the baby. I’ll probably drop in and out. Depends on how things go.”
“You don’t need to babysit me,” I say. “Anne and your kid come first. I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll see.”
I rub my tired eyes. “Seriously, I’m good.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Dick.”
He chuckles. “I promise to stay out of your way, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“Fine. Byeee.”
I hang up, kill the lights, and head to my room, grabbing my Kindle before stretching out across the bed.
Despite his overprotectiveness driving me fucking crazy, Liam’s proof that it’s possible to outrun your past—to build something better, to stare down your demons and flip them the bird.
And yet here I am, twenty-seven years old, still haunted by my demon.
About to spend ten months with him, in fact.
Shadowing him. Photographing him. Documenting his every move.
I try to read, but my eyes refuse to cooperate, the same sentence sliding past again and again. My mind drifts backward, to Carter, and the way he used to dismantle my bad moods with a single, perfectly timed line.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
He’s lodged in the wrong chapter of my life, written in a place he doesn’t belong. He’s someone I should have moved on from. He should be irrelevant by now, but here he is, living rent-free in my head, carrying an opinion I never got to correct.
I press my palms over my eyes, breathing into the dark.
Distance has never been enough. Time hasn’t helped either. No matter how far I run, some people don’t stay in the past.
They follow you.